


World In Your Hands

by Dr_Wahoo



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, He just is, Humor, M/M, Megatron is getting there, Nothing resembling pregnancy happens here, Pre-Relationship, Soundwave is Dad, Transformer Sparklings, Vector Sigma - Freeform, Vector Sigma makes newsparks in this universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Wahoo/pseuds/Dr_Wahoo
Summary: Megatron is about to meet Soundwave’s newest cassette. He tells himself he’s not nervous. (He’s lying, but everything's better than alright in the end.)
Relationships: Megatron & Soundwave, Megatron/Soundwave
Comments: 12
Kudos: 101





	World In Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This is set sometime before my other Megatron/Soundwave fic, but you don’t have to read that to understand this. I just really wanted to write cute baby fluff, my headcanons about Vector Sigma and reproduction, and a friendship that’s starting to verge on something new. I hope you all enjoy!

  


Megatron strode down the hall, a summons ringing in his processor. _Sparkling_ _has onlined,_ it read. _Siblings have met him. Your presence_ _in the medical wing is now requested._ He turned over the glyphs, detecting faint emotional resonance underneath. It sent a thrill through his own spark that he refused to acknowledge. 

“Wait! Megatron, wait!” Starscream called, panting. He ran at his leader’s heels. “I haven’t finished critiquing your strategy! Our fliers—“

“Can wait. After all, it isn’t every cycle a newspark comes online.”

“You mean...?”

“Yes. Now, unless you have an invitation of your own, I suggest you grant us a moment of peace. ”

Several expressions worked over Starscream’s face. He settled on a scowl. “As you command, mighty Megatron,” he grumbled, turning on his heel and stalking away. 

Megatron didn’t bother to watch his departure, optics fixed on the hall ahead of him. Or rather, on the fast approaching doors at the end of the hall. His tanks clenched at the sight. Anxiety buzzed underneath his plating like electric charge. _Don't be a fool,_ he scolded himself.  _How many battles have you fought? How many times have you faced Prime himself without backing down? You were not nervous then, and you are **not** nervous now!_

The doors slid open. Hook leaned into the hall, blinking. “Sir?”

Megatron straightened. “I am here to see the newest Decepticon.”

“Of course.” Hook moved aside. He didn’t comment on how his leader rocked on his heels, trying to unglue them from the floor. Then, Megatron clenched his jaw and charged helmlong into the medical wing.

Empty berths and blank monitor screens greeted him. It took his optics a moment to spot a set of silvery curtains at the other end of the room. Light seeped out between a gap in the fabric, casting odd shadows over the space. Shoulders squared, he marched towards those curtains.

The curtains parted. Megatron faltered, shielding his optics against the light spilling into the room. He squinted out from underneath his servo. 

Soundwave stood there, holding the curtains apart. His other servo cupped a small, pink and brown frame to his chest. Against his cassette dock, tiny nostrils fogged the glass panel with breaths of air. The sight made Megatron’s own vents stall.

“Megatron’s presence: welcomed and appreciated.”

He reset his vocalizer, straightening his back. “It is my duty as your leader... and as your friend.”

Soundwave shifted to the side. At Megatron’s arched optic ridge, he explained, “Sparkling: requires warmth. Soundwave: must stay underneath heat lamp.”

“Ah, you wish me to join you?”

“Affirmative.”

Megatron stepped between the curtains. They swished shut behind him, and warmth soon washed over his plating. It jogged something in his memory banks. “A sparkling only requires heat when the newspark separates early,” he recalled.

“Newspark: separated from Vector Sigma earlier than predicted.”

“Is it serious?”

“Negative. Newspark: mature enough to bind to frame. Heat lamp: only needed to fully activate some of sparkling's systems.”

Megatron laid a servo on Soundwave’s shoulder. “But knowing you, it must have worried you greatly at the time.”

Soundwave stiffened. After a moment, his shoulders sagged. He nodded.

“Oh, my friend. I wish it had gone smoother.”

“Soundwave: does as well.” He leaned into Megatron’s servo, glancing up. “But Soundwave: does not regret this.”

“Of course.”

“Soundwave: thanks you for allowing it.”

Megatron chuckled, squeezing his shoulder. “Both of us know you would have done it anyways.”

“...statement: perhaps.”

“It was never a ‘perhaps’, my friend. Not once we understood the situation.” A grin crossed Megatron’s face as he recalled the moment in question.

_The Deception High Command stood in a chamber at the core of Cybertron. Vector Sigma floated in the center of this chamber, pulsing bright and steady. Its golden shine flickered over the walls like the light of a distant sun. Seeing as it was a life-giving and glowing sphere, it may as well have been a sun. But Megatron wasn’t concerned with definitions. He instead demanded, “Explain.”_

_ Shockwave stood at attention. “Hypotheses include restored energon supplies, use of the key, or a combination of both. Regardless of how it happened, Vector Sigma has resumed autonomous functioning.” _

_ Starscream waved a servo at the glowing sphere. “And what functions has it taken upon itself to resume, exactly?” _

_ “Conducting repairs to Cybertron at a steady rate. According to both its estimates and my own, Vector Sigma will restore the planet in several vorns. It might even be habitable soon after.” _

_ Megatron stroked his chin in thought. “Then I may have a living planet to rule and shape in the Decepticon image, not some desiccated shell.” _

_ “We must also prepare for Vector Sigma resuming other functions.” _

_ “Such as?” _

_ “The creation of newsparks.” _

_ Soundwave startled. Starscream’s wings shot up. “What?!“ _

_ “Now that it is online again, Vector Sigma can ‘sense’ the planet’s absence of life. It will act to populate the planet. Not an entire generation at once, I assure you. But one or two newsparks may develop and separate over these next few vorns.” _

_ “Can we control or override the process?” _

_ “Not without the activation key... which, as we know, was destroyed.” _

_ “Of course. Cursed Autobots,” Megatron growled, crossing his arms. “I see now why you brought us here. This is quite the situation.” _

_ “Situation? Hardly,” Starscream scoffed. “We can always slow the input of energon to Vector Sigma. The formation of newsparks will slow with it.” _

_ Shockwave dipped his helm. “That is one possible solution, yes. But it would also slow the restoration of Cybertron.” _

_ “So? The planet is in no state to take on sparklings, anyways! Unless you think a Decepticon would volunteer to nanny one of them, we—“ _

_ Vector Sigma gave a sudden flare, its pulsation quickening. Light flooded the room with the whine of strained systems. Heat thrummed through the floor and almost scorched their pedes. The air crackled with charge, blanketing everything with the pungent scent of ozone. Tremors ran through the sphere as it burned brighter and brighter.  _ _ They all recoiled, turning their backs on Vector Sigma. “Shockwave!” Megatron bellowed above the noise. “What is happening?!” _

_ Shockwave’s audial fins snapped back. “I — I believe it is generating a newspark!” _

_ “Now?!” Starscream squawked, eyes widening behind his servos. _

_ Soundwave, who had stumbled next to Megatron at the first sign of trouble, stiffened. A rush of air left his vents, and his knees buckled.  _ _ Megatron whirled around. “Soundwave, what—?” _

_ As sudden as it began, it ended. The glow of Vector Sigma dimmed. The floor cooled under their pedes and ozone dissipated in the air. But Megatron only had optics for Soundwave. He held him by the elbows, supporting him with a worried frown. “My friend?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.  _

_ Soundwave shook his helm a few times. His vocalizer clicked, but no words came. He gripped Megatron’s forearms hard enough to dent them.  _

_ Shockwave leaned over a nearby monitor, surveying the readouts scrolling over its screen. “My hypothesis was correct,” he called over. “Vector Sigma has generated a newspark — the first in vorns, according to the records.” _

_ Starscream turned around, rubbing his optics. “What class is it?”  _

_ “Newspark: is a cassette.” _

_ The familiar monotone was more hushed than usual. Megatron startled, turning back to his friend. “You can sense it,” he realized.  _

_ “Cassette-host status: enables detection of such signatures. Soundwave... reacted to detection.” _

_ “You reacted correctly,” Shockwave said from the monitor. “The newspark signature matches that of a cassette.” _

_ Starscream looked between the three of them. “Well, then? What do you propose we do with it?” _

_ Soundwave raised his helm, meeting Megatron’s gaze. His visor dimmed to a soft, tentative glow. It was a sight Megatron had seen before, back when he was a nameless miner whispering poems to himself. He remembered that visor emerging from the dark. He remembered how, as a servo grasped his shoulder and promised to keep his secret, it asked to share the secret. It pleaded in its own wordless way for more, for something.  _

_ But there wasn’t only pleading from Soundwave. Not then, and not in this moment either. There was also steel and iron resolve in his stare, in the firm grip on Megatron’s shoulder. A promise to support and protect. A determination that couldn’t be shaken or crossed. _

_ And like back then, no matter how he looked at it, Megatron couldn’t say no. _

Megatron emerged from his recollection, shaking his helm. “You were always good at guilt-tripping me,” he chuckled.

“Soundwave: prefers the term ‘convincing.’”

“I thought so.”

Before Soundwave could reply, the tiny frame in his servos stirred. Arms stretched out and revealed long, ribbed wings before pulling them back in. The snout against his cassette dock scrunched up and snuffled in slumber.

“What is his designation?”

“Designation: Ratbat,” Soundwave murmured. He stroked a thumb over his creation’s forehelm. Ratbat’s face relaxed into a slack, peaceful expression.

“A fitting choice.” Megatron leaned against the wall, gesturing at Ratbat. “Though I did not expect you would do  this yet again.”

“Soundwave: did not anticipate it either. But newspark: needed someone. Needed care, guidance and a creator once it came into the world. Other Decepticons: lack experience and knowledge in those areas.”

Megatron tried to imagine Starscream, Shockwave, or even himself as a creator. The ensuing mental images made him wince. “That is... fair.”

“Addendum: when you have done it five times, what is one more?”

“True. Though I doubt you will enjoy repeats of ‘spit-up time.’”

Soundwave’s helm jerked up, visor flaring in realization. He hunched his shoulders and shuddered.

Megatron disguised a snicker as a cough into his fist. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have reminded you of that.”

“Ratbat: will remind Soundwave soon enough,” came the gloomy sigh. He returned his gaze to Ratbat’s slumbering frame, voice softening. “But spit up: temporary, at least. Bond with sparkling: eternal.”

Megatron pushed himself off the wall. “Regardless, I will have the towels ready.” His face sobered. “I will have  everything you need ready. Ratbat will want for nothing as long as you are his creator, and I am your leader. You have my word.”

Soundwave nudged their shoulders together. “Soundwave: never doubted it.”

The simple trust in those words warmed Megatron to the core. It filled him with a mixture of pride and joy, puffing out his chest. He allowed himself a rare, true smile, and returned the shoulder nudge.  Ratbat shifted in Soundwave’s servos, audials flicking. Megatron leaned closer and squinted down at him. “Primus, he’s tiny.”

“Sparklings: always tiny,” Soundwave said, voice dry and amused.

“You could never think of Rumble or Frenzy like this, looking at them now.”

“Soundwave: sometimes thinks they weren’t like this long enough.”

“Because they ‘grow up too fast,’ or because you would’ve had more peace?”

“Affirmative.”

Megatron blinked, then snorted a laugh.

The sharp sound made Ratbat’s audials twitch. Two red optics flickered online before blowing wide open, alert and intent. They focused on the large silver mech standing overhead.  That same mech froze. “...frag.”

Ratbat’s optics somehow widened even further.

_Oh. This is fantastic. First I wake him, then I swear in front of him — Primus, I swore in front of him. And now I’ve scared him! The crying will start any moment and Soundwave won’t speak to me for—_

“Megatron?”

He snapped out of it, shoulders tense and arms rigid at his sides. “What?”

“Ratbat: not upset,” Soundwave murmured. He stroked a digit down Ratbat’s back, who still stared at Megatron. “Telepathy: does not sense it.”

“Then... why is he staring at me?” Megatron demanded, pointing at him. 

“Ratbat: curious.”

Sure enough, those optics didn’t pool with fluid. They glittered, following his movements with rapt curiosity. Ratbat even managed a soft, inquisitive chirp. He startled at the sound coming from his own vocalizer, then calmed and chirped again.

Megatron took a cautious step forwards. Ratbat perked up, audials swiveling towards him. His chirping grew faster and more excited with each step closer.

“I... may I...?”

Soundwave nodded. 

Pulling in air through his vents, Megatron extended a single digit. He lowered it bit by bit, until it touched Ratbat’s tiny pink helm. 

The metal plating felt warm and soft to his sensors. It wouldn’t harden for another few joors, if his vague recollections were correct. He kept his touch as light and careful as possible, but Ratbat had other ideas. He pushed his helm into the tip of the digit, rubbing his crown against it. Megatron got the hint and began to stroke the plating between Ratbat’s audials. It earned him a pleased chitter.

Ratbat turned his helm, still keeping it under Megatron’s digit, and peered up at Soundwave. He flapped his wings, panting at him.  “Affirmative,” Soundwave agreed, his voice warm and fond under the monotone. “Megatron: is fascinating.”

Heat threatened to pool in Megatron’s faceplates. He coughed, resetting his vocalizer. “He should think so. I am his future leader, after all.”

All of a sudden, Ratbat’s mouth split wide open. Megatron snatched his finger back, startled, but it was only a yawn. It flashed rows of tiny denta and a pink glossa to the world, mewling a sleepy huff.

A rare chuckle escaped Soundwave. “Megatron: has nothing to fear.”

“I was not afraid! I was startled. There is a difference, Soundwave.”

“Then Megatron: will not mind holding Ratbat.”

“What?”

Soundwave held out his cupped servos, gaze steady. “Megatron: is Ratbat’s leader. Megatron: should be known to him early in life, to build trust and loyalty.”

”I do not disagree, but I am not built for... this. My servos were made to crush stones, not handle delicate sparklings.”

“Statement: neither were mine.”

Megatron paused. “No... no, yours weren’t. And I was the one to say you _could,_ didn’t I?”

“Quotation: 'More than the sum of your parts.'”

“Hmph.”

Another pause ensued. Soundwave didn’t lower his gaze or his servos, still holding out a chirping Ratbat. Megatron shifted his weight from pede to pede.

“...give him here.”

Soundwave’s visor brightened. He brought Ratbat to Megatron’s chest, lowering the tiny frame into a pair of giant black servos. 

Megatron would never admit it, but his spark stuttered when Ratbat landed in his palms. He felt so  light,  as if he weighed nothing at all. His wings were a little longer than his smallest digit. His snout huffed tiny, excited breaths as he tilted his helm back and met his gaze. Those optics made up for their small size in sheer brightness. “Hello,” Megatron murmured. His vocalizer was too rough, too hoarse for his voice to be gentle. He winced the moment the word left his mouth.

But Ratbat heard more than his hoarseness. He also heard the careful, softer pitch. He felt how Megatron angled his servos, keeping his strong hold unrestricted and light. He must’ve, because a smile spread across his small faceplates.

Megatron’s optics widened. Ratbat beamed even wider, giggling at his stunned expression. He nudged the digits of the servo he sat in, and they began to stroke his back on autopilot. It elicited purring and happy, slitted optics.

“This...” Megatron risked a glance up. “Is this good?”

Soundwave stared at the two of them, watching Megatron adjust his servos to better cradle Ratbat. “...affirmative.”

Megatron returned his gaze to Ratbat. He cupped his friend’s creation to his broad chest, his gaze softening. “You have a fine frame,” he murmured. “Your creator built it well, and you will grow into it with time. Whatever you become, I have no doubt you will make an exceptional Decepticon.”

Ratbat purred into his chestplates, snuggling closer. The implicit act of trust made something soar in his spark. His lips began to twitch up at the corners—

A sudden, dazzling flash seared into his vision. 

Megatron grunted, blinking spots out of his optics. It took him a moment to see Starscream, leaning through a gap in the curtains and grinning. He held up Reflector in his clawed servos.  “Well, well,” he drawled. “Whatever would the troops say of this? Their mighty leader, coddling an infant? Why, they’d think he’s going soft!”

Soundwave acted first. Visor flaring, he tried to snatch Reflector. Starscream sidestepped him. A scuffle ensued where they swiped and shoved at each other.

“Hey!” Reflector cried. “I didn’t sign up for this!”

“Starscream: desist!”

“In your dreams, you little—!”

“Starscream,” Megatron said. He stroked Ratbat’s helm and elicited a soft trill. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will throw you over my shoulder. I will carry you through the halls. And I will toss you out the nearest airlock, and not let you in until your joints are clogged with seaweed.”

Starscream blanched. He froze in place, long enough for Soundwave to pry Reflector from his servos. “But—”

“Do I need to make myself clear?”

“N-No! Not all, Megatron! I hear you perfectly fine!”

“Then go!”

Starscream fled, the curtains billowing out behind him. Soundwave, who‘d been talking to Reflector in undertones, accepted a printed photograph. He then set him outside their curtains. Footsteps were heard hurrying away not long after.

Megatron sighed, sinking onto a nearby repair berth. “‘Going soft,’ my aft,” he grumbled. “That should convince him otherwise.”

Soundwave held out the photograph. “Query: dispose of this?”

It showed Megatron holding Ratbat to his chest, his shoulders set in a firm and protective line. Ratbat looked content in his servos, his wings splayed out as he giggled. A faint smile tugged on the lips of the Megatron in the photo. Soundwave stood in the shot as well, his solid blue frame a sturdy presence at Megatron's side. His visor looked over them with warmth and fondness. As it was, the picture looked complete. Any thought of discarding it sat wrong in Megatron’s spark chamber. He couldn't quite identify why — not yet, at least. But he knew it was too special to let slip away. 

“No,” Megatron decided. “So long as we keep it between us?”

Soundwave’s visor brightened. “Picture: will remain between us,” he agreed.

And as he sat next to Megatron on the berth, allowing Ratbat to doze on both of their laps, something new began between them as well.

**Author's Note:**

> There’s lots of takes on Cybertronian reproduction out there. All of them are unique and interesting, but I have a soft spot for stuff like Vector Sigma. An ambiguous lifegiving artifact is fun for me to explore. I also like the idea that their reproduction is alien and different from organic species. But that’s just my personal taste. Like what you like and run wild with it!
> 
> As an additional side note, this pairing really grew on me. I like thinking they've known each other for a long time and have been friends for just as long. These two know each other better than probably anyone else, and they're the ones they feel most comfortable letting down their guard with in private. (Well, in Soundwave's case, his cassettes also fall into that category to some extent.) They trust and respect each other, and they'll have each other's backs until the end of time. They're best friends first. It's only now that some other feelings are starting to develop... in this little world of mine, anyways. 
> 
> Kudos, comments and constructive criticism are welcome. Thank you for reading this fic, and I hope you all have a lovely day!


End file.
